Midaregami and Hoshino Tetsuro

English translation of the prose

AI-assisted English translation of the prose; quoted poems remain in Japanese. The Japanese original remains authoritative.

Originally published: 2020-05-16

This is material published on the Japanese website. Dates and notices describe circumstances at the time of its original publication.

Romantic Songs (2)

“Midaregami” and Hoshino Tetsuro

May 23, 2020 (Reiwa 2), No. 1938
Seishu Hamano

Will the Woman Throw Herself from the Cliff?

When they hit rock bottom, anyone will find a song emerging. Hoshino does, and so do I.

Even if it is not the defiant ditty of someone being led away under arrest, a song spills from the lips after life's long lament.

This song is one of those. Because it was made at rock bottom, it continues to possess my heart.

Here is a woman heading toward a cape of sheer cliffs. Her hair is disheveled by the wind blowing against her. Loose strands from her long side-locks tangle around her slender fingers. Her hem opens, revealing white legs. Paying it no heed, she moves toward the precipice, step by step. She means to die. That is what this is.

A man made a poem of that desperation: Hoshino Tetsuro. He is not young. He is no longer of an age for disappointed love or throwing himself to his death. Back in the city, he is chairman of the copyright association. He still answers the telephone himself, yet there is something he cannot tell others: the organ on which he had surgery is hurting again today. The telephone rings. He takes my call. His body is suffering, and his voice is hoarse. “Are you all right?” “Ah, yes.” “Are you busy?” “No. Please come. I'd like to see you again.”

This masterpiece, “Midaregami,” was Hibari's first song on her return. 船村徹's introduction begins aching in my chest. I run out of words. “Then at three.” “Yes, I'll be waiting.” Neither of us talks about copyright any more. But naturally we want to meet.

This old man possesses a sure craftsmanship rarely seen today. A master at making new words, a professional combining a craftsman's skill with a sharp sensibility. Deep in Hoshino's heart, a woman who has never disappeared comes in and out of view, and I head for the office.

　　　　１．
髪のみだれに　手をやれば
赤い蹴出しが　風に舞う
憎や恋しや塩谷の岬
投げて届かぬ　想いの糸が
胸にからんで　涙をしぼる

The association's office is cramped, but once the two of us are outside, we can breathe freely. “There isn't really a word kedashi, though…” he says with a laugh as he walks, stumbling.

“What does it matter if people say you made it up? The strings of the heart turn into thread; one-sided love becomes one-sided feeling. That's why it clings to the heart. At the beginning she's a woman out of 岩田仙太郎: mysterious, profound, driven to desperation. In the second half it becomes a thread of feeling, and that pulls us in.” Hoshino nods. “船村 has done it well, with those heartstrings in a shamisen-like manner.” “Mysterious and profound? I see.”

“Hoshino, everyone thinks this is a song about going to die, so when 船村's introduction begins, the listeners brace themselves too. They feel they understand the woman's hidden life. It has something in common with Hibari's sad drinking alone… Oh, that reminds me: what happened after that with that woman?” That is what I want to ask, but—

I cannot even ask, “The girl who was your classmate at primary school on Suo-Oshima…?” Instead I begin, “On Suo-Oshima, so many people emigrated to America in the Meiji period that there are rows of houses standing empty…” “Yes. You either emigrated, became a fisherman, or volunteered…”

“Volunteered? Ah, for the army… But although you belonged to the wartime generation, after the war you said you wanted to become a fisherman, to be manly… Did you really want to become a fisherman?”

He does not nod. Walking slowly, speaking in fragments, at the steps of プレドール he says, “You were physically weak too, weren't you, Hamano? Neither of us was suited to the sea, you or I…”

“Yes… But what about meeting that woman again?”

“It was in Iwaki, but it wasn't Shioyazaki… Some place in front of the station…”

He sips his coffee.

“She calls me 哲っちゃん, that girl. A studious one—not me, her. From a prominent family, and she made wonderful notes. But the family fell on hard times. The net-owner's house, everything…” He shakes his head.

“Ah, so that's why 糸 went to work in a bar… And in Iwaki, so very far from Oshima.”

The old man nods and sips his coffee. Looking down, he seems to want to say what the woman is doing now, but does not. Better not to ask.

　　　　２．
捨てたお方の　しあわせを
祈る女の　性かなし
辛や　重たや　わが恋ながら
沖の瀬をゆく　底引き網の
舟に乗せたい　この片情け

“If I'd had a little more spirit, and stronger arms, I might have been adopted into that family… Their bottom-trawling boats… Yes, I suppose they had ten. I could have gone aboard…”

“Ah, so if she threw herself from the cape, she would sink to the bottom first and be caught in the net…”

“No, that's only my imagination. 糸ちゃん was much more capable. When we were clearing up after the sports day, she said to me with tears in her eyes, ‘てっちゃん, you've got to pull yourself together.’ But I wanted to go to sea… Classmates standing nearby heard us and wrote 哲郎 and 糸 in enormous letters on the blackboard, side by side under a lovers' umbrella. I couldn't stay on Oshima any longer.”

“Then perhaps 糸 felt she'd been abandoned…”

“I didn't abandon her. When you're weak in both mind and body, as I am, there's nowhere you can stand shoulder to shoulder with everyone else… Someone like me… Half an invalid and useless…”

　　　　３．
春は二重に　巻いた帯
三重に巻いても　余る秋
暗や　果てなや　塩谷の岬
見えぬ心を　照らしておくれ
ひとりぼっちに　しないでおくれ

“When you say twice or three times around, is it a half-width sash? She's a professional, so she ties it low. The kimono would be yellow Hachijo silk, or Oshima. The fluttering kedashi is the lining of her long under-kimono, a pinkish crimson full of the sensual allure favored by women of her profession…” I say.

“So that's how much you read into it, Hamano?” he laughs. “糸 was a Madonna-like figure from primary-school days. She's the girl I remember best.”

“Anyway, you met again as adults. You're free now, aren't you? Even if marriage is difficult, you can meet again and again… Ah, forgive me. Such a reckless life would never do, I suppose…” I say.

He shakes his head. “I too wanted to see her from time to time, if I could… But you know, the next time I saw her, she'd grown terribly thin, 糸ちゃん… She used to be a bright child with a round face and big, clear eyes. Now her cheeks were hollow and her face had grown long. She put her fingers to the loose strands at her temples and pressed her eye with her bent-back little finger. ‘Sometimes I can't see with this eye. I live alone, so I don't trouble anyone… Oh, I'm not lamenting. It's all right to be on my own. Just leave me as I am, てっちゃん…’”

Hoshino reportedly told this story only to Hibari. She took it into her heart and sang on stage with her eyes full of tears. Hoshino watched her from the copyright association's office.

Hibari has gone, Hoshino has gone, and perhaps 糸 too is no longer of this world. Yet the song “Midaregami” lives on today in some karaoke bar somewhere. Poetic truth is eternal. So is this little essay.

(End of No. 1938)

The three quoted lyric stanzas remain in Japanese. Personal recollections and interpretations are presented as the author's account.

Recordings linked in the original: 船村徹: “Midaregami”; 美空ひばり: “Midaregami”.